


Shielded

by anajoyy



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: ACOTAR - Freeform, F/M, Finished, Trigger warning: abuse, feysand, past allusions to rape and abuse, trigger warning: rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-09-30 18:19:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10168994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anajoyy/pseuds/anajoyy
Summary: Rhysand and Feyre are couple goals, and that's about all you need to know to survive this fanfic, really.





	1. Breaking Free

I had thought Feyre’s nightmares would have ended by now. She was still in the Spring Court getting information from Tamlin while I constantly scoured Prythian for a way to get her back safely, but her nightmares had lost their intensity since our mating bond was mutually accepted—like everything fit into place.

But now I could see the images that haunted Feyre, could hear the sounds of Amarantha taunting her and devaluing every single piece of her. It enraged me, and Azriel must have noticed, because he turned to me with a worried expression.

“Rhys,” he called from across the dining table. Amarantha, shoving her claws down Feyre’s throat, appeared in my mind. I tightened my fists and closed my eyes, sending three words down our bond, but I felt them hit something hard and solid. Her shields. Feyre never put up her shields towards me anymore—the only way we can communicate is through our mating bond. “Rhysand. What’s happening? Rhys.” Azriel continued, causing Mor to look his way. She glanced over to him, confused, but found my eyes and all the color drained from her face.

“Feyre.” The word came from the mouths of both Mor and Azriel the moment they realized it. I stood from my chair, mentally hurtling all of my power to the wall that separated me and my mate. Nothing should separate my mate from me. I’d waited too long, taken too much time, to get Feyre back from Tamlin. I would not wait a second longer. I willed myself to let a fraction of my mask come down, as I knew I would need it for the task I’d be performing.

“Azriel, find Cassian and bring him back here right now. Mor, I want you and Amren to winnow into the Spring Court the moment Cassian is back. Stay far enough so that nobody can sense you.” I said with lethal calm as Mor vanished from the room, leaving her scent behind. I reached into the place between realities that I often used to store things and the tunic and pants that was so like Rhysand to the Spring Court appeared on my body. I reached back in to grab a long, gruesome blade etched with ancient markings. Admiring the sword for a second, I threw a glamour over it and tucked it into my boot for good measure. 

Ariel, who I didn’t realize had left, came back with Cassian in tow, both in their Illyrian fighting leathers. Both of their wingspans next to each other extended past the table, and I tilted my head to face them.

“Something’s wrong in Spring. Feyre’s mind…something is off about it, and I can’t quite tell from this far away. All I know is that she has up her shields, and she hasn’t had them up the entire month. Let’s go.” My voice was somewhere between a whisper and a shout, and both of my brothers nodded curtly as they walked out to the balcony. We exchanged looks before soaring off into the night sky, the cool air bristling my hair. I felt free, yes, but, as I glimpsed back through our bond, I felt the shield loosen. Relief and worry flooded me. I shouted her name through the bond before shattering through the shields with all of the force I had. I swayed in the wind as some of my power gave up, but I soon carried on the normal flight path. I looked down and, just below the thick clouds of fog, I could see large, sprawling forests with multicolored leaves. We were above the Autumn Court. 

Feyre’s mind was in shreds, frantic thoughts everywhere and words hidden in crevices. I tried to search through all of the information to find what she needed when another image flashed through my mind. I began to see through Feyre’s eyes at the scene before her.

_Tamlin towered above her, his hair no longer at his shoulders but cut almost as short as mine._

_“Did you think you could betray me, Feyre? Did you think you could get away with this?” Tamlin bellowed, getting too close to Feyre’s face. She stepped back a bit, and I realized she was in a bedroom—hers. Tamlin’s green eyes gleamed with something too close to a predator’s intent as he stepped toward her, his chest covered in a light sweat and his cheeks burning red with rage. Feyre fell down onto the bed, but held her ground._

_“I did nothing of the sort, Tamlin dear.” Feyre’s words were strong, though the term of endearment made me want to rip Tamlin’s head off. He stalked closer to her, but stumbled back as he hit a wall of hard air. He growled ferociously._

_“You betrayed me, Feyre. I trusted you—I loved you and you betrayed me.” Tamlin’s voice was guttural._

_“You trapped me! You locked me up in this damned manor and protected me like I was a little porcelain doll, Tamlin!” Feyre screamed, her words walking a dangerous line. If she told him that she willingly accepted our mating bond, who knew what Tamlin would do?_

_“You couldn’t get hurt, Feyre!” Tamlin said as he banged his fist against the invisible wall, blood beginning to trickle from a cut on his knuckles. Feyre took down the shield and walked over to him, staring him straight in the eye and not backing down._

_“You sat there at, Amarantha’s side while I killed and sacrificed and hurt myself to protect you! I freed you and Prythian, but do you want to know something? I couldn’t have cared less about Prythian—I was a human and in love with you! I only wanted to free you! You didn’t help me a single time, or even try to help! Even Lucien tried to assist me when he could! The only time you saw me, you were only interested in getting into my pants and not checking to see how I was!” Feyre screamed, hurling a ball of darkness his way. He pushed himself back against a wall, and Feyre barely got a glimpse into his eyes before he lunged for her, pinning her down to the floor._

That was it. That was all of the memory I could get before Feyre’s shields snapped back up—and Tamlin was going to die. Yes, I would make that insufferable beast beg for death for what he’d done. It wasn’t that I needed to protect Feyre the way he’d done to her for so long—I knew Feyre was more than capable of handling herself—but Tamlin’s transgressions had gone too long unpunished. He’d feel the wrath of the High Lord of the Night Court for ever believing he could put his hands on my mate.

I swooped through the air faster than I had ever done before, and looked down to see the tall roof of Tamlin’s estate. I circled it twice before motioning to Azriel and Cassian to come down. We both landed swiftly, and I broke the lock on the gigantic front door with little more than a light push. 

 _Rhys._ A single word rasped down our bond had my steps faster, and I quickly checked to make sure Azriel and Cassian were stationed outside. I followed my mate’s scent whilst tugging on our bond repeatedly, saying Feyre’s name over and over again like a prayer. Eventually, Feyre’s scent led me to another set of doors, this one cracked open a bit to where I could just barely hear Feyre’s steady breathing. I opened the door, putting my hands in my pockets and threw another glamour over my wings as a finishing touch to this facade. Tamlin turned to me.

“Rhysand.” Tamlin bellowed, running to where I was in the doorway. I chuckled and vanished into shadow only to appear by Feyre. She sat on the floor, her knees pulled up to her chests but her eyes fierce and unyielding. I took her chin in my hands, and almost grinned at the feeling of her skin—smooth and finally in my hands. 

“Feyre darling,” I purred, grinning wickedly. “If you don’t quite like your situation here with dearest Tam, we could always make another deal and you could come stay with your favorite High Lord.”

 _Arrogant until the bitter end, aren’t you?_ Feyre teased through the bond.

 _You signed up for it, love._ I let her chin go, and she snarled at me, though I saw through the act.

“Prick. I’m never going back to your hellhole of a court.” Feyre’s voice was so convincing that I smirked slightly. Tamlin stalked over to me, his eyes vicious.

“So you are mates, truly. You just could not resist coming to save your beautiful damsel in distress, could you?” Tamlin shouted, and I barely had a chance to react before a damper was thrown over all of my senses. Bastard.

“So I see there was more to your deal with the ever-so-pleasant King of Hybern…” I kept my voice calm as I subtly looked to Feyre to see if she had felt the same effect. As our eyes connected, she took down all of her shields so I could search for the answer. Within moments, I was in and out of Feyre’s mind, and she threw the guards to her mind back up. Based on what I saw, Tamlin had blocked only a few of her powers—the only ones he knew about. Well, he was in for a surprise.

“What will the precious, weak High Lord of the Night Court do, now that he has no magic? How ashamed would your mother and sister be?” Tamlin laughed, so unaware and so ignorant that I almost chuckled, but instead forced a mildly frightened look onto my face. The High Lord of the Spring Court approached Feyre, and, in a moment, his lips were on hers. My wings threatened to escape the glamour, but I kept my temper under control, even when Tamlin whispered into Feyre’s ear, “See? You’re mine.” I scanned the room for a second before silently walking up behind Tamlin. The long blade I’d held in my boot was at Tamlin’s throat with grace and speed that I’d spent his entire childhood learning.

“Touch my mate again, and you’ll die. Oh, and, surprise, I don’t need magic as a crutch. No, I’m pretty sure that’s your thing.” With what little power I could grasp, I barreled into Tamlin’s mind easily and disabled the spell that stopped my magic. The cool, calm feeling of magic flooding my nerve’s regained, and I sighed silently.

I almost hesitated about slitting the skin on Tamlin’s warm throat before remembering the largest and most upheld rule in all of Prythian: _A High Lord may kill anyone who harms their mate._ I quickly sent my thoughts down the bond to Feyre, waiting for her to confirm that Tamlin had, in fact, hurt her. She sent a memory my way.

_Feyre was under Tamlin’s arms as he pinned her down to the floor, his breathing heavy and hot as he bared his teeth at her._

_“Traitor. You are a traitor and a liar.” Tamlin uttered. Feyre barely realized his fist was connecting to her face until she felt the impact and stumbled backward. She writhed away from his grasp, and sent a knee to his crotch before scurrying to the other side of the room and protecting herself with another shield of air._

The memory ended, and I felt absolutely no remorse at all as I slid the blade across The High Lord of the Spring Court’s throat and warm blooded covered my hands.

 


	2. You Brute

Tamlin sunk into my arms, and I hauled him into an upright stance. I didn’t have much time before one of those Spring Court bastards came to investigate the noise. Though it was perfectly legal for me to kill him, that didn’t mean that his subjects—especially the prick Lucien would be too happy about it. As if my thoughts had summoned his presence, I began to hear footsteps from down the hall—heavy, large, hurried. Lucien was coming.

After checking to make sure my wings were still hidden, I placed the body on a large ottoman sitting on the side of Feyre’s room. Lucien stepped into the room just as I threw on my facade. He sniffed the air, his metal eye whirring while trying to figure out what had happened.

“Why the hell are you here?” Lucien snarled. I laughed coolly and slid my hands into my pockets, stepping closer to him.

“Lucien… Let’s make a comparison, shall we?” I teased, raising both of my eyebrows. He frowned but nodded, clearly still curious.

“Your mate—Elain—let’s say she’s somewhere out of your reach and there’s no way for you to get to her. But then you see through your bonds that she’s being yelled out and abused. What would you do to the man who did that to her?” I asked, causing Lucien to growl out of confusion and a hint of annoyance. I continued anyway.

“No matter how much of a heartless bastard I am, I will protect my mate when I see she’s in danger.” I let a little bit of my temper seep through the words, and apologized mentally to Feyre. Certain words were off-limits when speaking to her because of what Tamlin had done after Under the Mountain. I took a moment to look at Lucien’s clothing: he had only a pair of gray sleeping pants on and had a sloppily-sheathed sword at his side. He was rushing—and off-kilter. I seized the opportunity, slipping through his mind like an asp. I moved quickly past the usual, normal thoughts: things like, _Rhysand—that bastard_ , _Where’s Tamlin_ , and _Cauldron, it’s late_. It took less than a second for me to find what I wanted—an answer to why his face was so drawn, his lips pressed so thin. I crawled out of his mind, keeping it in my control but no longer wishing to be inside of it after what I’d seen.

“Rhys. I need you to calm down.” Lucien pleaded as I imagined throwing the vase across the room and shattering it.

“When.” I could barely spit out the demand over the blinding rage that consumed me. Lucien said nothing, and I threw a glass filled with water against the wall. With a flick of her wrist, Feyre made the water that dripped down the wall disappear. “WHEN DID THIS START?” I screamed, seething. 

Tamlin—this wasn’t the first time he’d pulled something like this. When I’d looked inside of Lucien’s mind, I’d seen the full extent of everything. Tamlin had been getting off like he owned Feyre—trapping her in her rooms, guarding her every breath, getting physical when she defied him, and, worst of all, forcing himself upon her. He had her under a spell the entire time, and had been cutting off her magic. Tonight, it seemed, had been a moment of weakness, as it seemed Tamlin had only bothered to block a few areas of Feyre’s power. I felt my own magic begin to boil my blood, and I fought hard to keep the darkness under my skin.

“The second day.” Lucien spat, turning his head so as to not face me. Night exploded throughout the room as I let the anger and rage consume me. I was still wrapped in the darkness when a bright, golden light tapped at the edge of my view. I turned to see Feyre, shining like she had that afternoon when we’d both accepted our mating bond. I couldn’t sort through any of the feelings that bubbled inside of me, but decided to stop the darkness and walk over to her.

“How did I not know?” I asked her, more to myself. She took my hand, and I squeezed it hard enough that my knuckles went white. I eased off when she winced slightly. I turned to Lucien.

“You bastard! You let Tamlin do it and you never _thought_ to stop him!” I tightened my grip on his mind and felt pieces of it threaten to shatter.

“Rhys. Please, listen. He had me under a spell, too. I’ve been on it ever since I came here after leaving my family. I can’t say anything about anything that goes on here. _Please_.” Lucien’s voice quivered, but he stayed in his strong stance. I let go of his mind and walked to Feyre.

“Do you want to go back? To Velaris?” I asked her, and she nodded. I took her hand, ready to winnow back outside when Lucien stopped me.

“Where’s Tam?” Lucien asked. I ignored him and stepped out of his way, but he followed me. “Rhys, I know he’s terrible, but he’s my friend. Where is Tamlin?” Lucien pleaded—he was so weak. With a dramatic flick of the wrist, I threw off the glamour I casted over Tamlin’s dead body, still pouring blood from the wound in his neck.

“There’s your friend, you brute.” I snarled, and Feyre and I strode out of the door and into the night. We didn’t look back when we heard Lucien’s strangled cries.


	3. Your Biggest Mistake

I could barely keep my wrath on a leash. I didn’t want to scare Feyre with what I was, with what I could do—no matter what she had told me while we were in the Court of Nightmares, I couldn’t bring myself to believe that anyone could watch me unleash my temper and stay with me.

“I would.” Feyre said quietly. I stopped, my boots skidding on the cobblestone path that led away from the manor. We weren’t far enough out to see even Cassian or Azriel, who were both much closer than Amren and Mor.

“What? How did you…” I asked, remembering at the moment to slip the glamour off of my wings. 

“I think the words you’ve used to describe it are ‘shouting down the bond’, Rhys.” Feyre said louder, turning to me and gripping my hands. “I was not lying that day. You could destroy the world and I’d stay by your side the whole time, because I know you do everything out of care.” Before I could send any gesture of thanks toward Feyre, I heard my name being called from the direction of the manor. 

“Oh, Rhys…” I could recognize that voice anywhere.

“Ianthe,” I snarled. “What have I told you—“ I cut myself off, sniffing the air gently as a wicked smile sprawled across my face. “So I see you’ve brought company.” I could hear the attempt at hushed footsteps creeping from the manor, and I chuckled. From the scent of this faerie, he was male and High Fae. I decided that I had extra restless anger anyway, and chose a game plan then and there—I’d fight with hand-to-hand combat if it came down to it.

“What else, dearest High Lord? You’ve caused the fall of the leader of the Spring Court. You’re lucky he’s such a brute, or else you’d have the entire Court coming for your head.” Ianthe’s usual robes were replaced by a lacy pink nightdress, and I cringed at the memories that the lingerie brought back.

“Your biggest mistake, Priestess, is believing that I could not handle the entire court at one time.” I strode closer to the male, who lingered in the dark to conceal his features.

“You’d certainly have no problem handling all of the women of the court at one time, judging from your past.” Ianthe purred, and I smirked with feline amusement. I felt Feyre’s anger threaten to boil over, and I gently coaxed the bond between us.

_Later, Feyre darling._

_Prick._ I could almost feel her smile through the bond without looking back at my mate. I smiled to myself, seeing that she hadn’t changed. I figured she wouldn’t; Feyre was steadfast. 

The male came out of the shadows and I saw that he was fully dressed in normal Spring Court clothes. I would’ve thought he was a normal courtier if he didn’t have a long blade drawn in front of him. I could smell the anger on him and I smirked. He backed up a bit, and I felt the magic beneath my bones rumble. I’d have to release it at some time.

“So, what do you think is appropriate payment for killing the High Lord of the Spring Court?” Ianthe seethed through her teeth as she stepped closer to me and put a finger on my chest. I fought the urge to shake it off.

“It’s all perfectly lawful. It’s wartime anyway, why waste time trying to fight me on this? Make the Autumn Court bastard the new High Lord,” I laughed, and Ianthe snarled. “Oh, I see… You have the charm turned up all the way on Tamlin, but Lucien would _never_ see to your bargains.” Ianthe curled her fists, and I felt the magic at her fingertips before I saw it. I avoided it with a smirk, winnowing behind her. She screamed, turning around with fire magic dancing along her hands. The High Priestesses were powerful, but not more than me. Or Feyre. 

She flung her magic at me, but I dodged it again and winnowed to right next to Feyre. 

 _You want to?_ I asked through the bond.

 _Of course I do._ And Feyre was upon her.

Ianthe was whirling her hands in formations only High Priestesses learned, throwing embers into Feyre’s hair and clothes. I watched as my mate surrounded herself in a bubble of solidified air and doused the fire that was on her body. And then the man came behind me, clearly attempting to sneak up to me. I chuckled, whirling and summoning my blade. The scent of his fear rushed through the air as he stepped back a bit, allowing me an advantage. I dropped the blade in my hand and grabbed him by his ankles, turning him upside down.

“Never in my life have I met such a weak High Fae.” I growled, and he writhed against my grip. I only tightened it farther. 

“What is your name?” I asked, forcing casualness into my voice. I couldn’t slaughter him right now—I needed to know what was so special about him that Ianthe would bring him, weak and unarmed, to try to go against me. That was folly even Ianthe was incapable of making.

“Holltheus.” The Fae said, and I turned to get a better view of him. I was surprised to see that he looked relatively young—he must have been born during the time of Amarantha’s rule, he was 30 years old at the most. His long, golden hair was stark against the dark night, and turquoise eyes attempted to scan the nearby forest to try and escape.

“Well, Holltheus, the next time that you try to fight anyone, I recommend that you prepare a bit more.” I did a quick search through his mind, and it seemed that he was just any other courtier. I didn’t believe it, but, upon searching farther, I saw gaps in his memory. It seemed that someone had wiped vital memories of who he was. Promising myself I’d follow up on this later, I erased the memory of everything that happened tonight and told him to go to sleep. If I didn’t know his identity, I would not know the consequences of killing him.

After I saw that he had returned, I looked to Feyre and Ianthe, and called Feyre through the bond.

 _No killing, Feyre darling._ Although Feyre was still on top of Ianthe and clutching her neck, I knew that she heard me. 

_Fine._

_Just erase her tonight from her mind and tell her to go back. There’s something going on here, and I don’t like the feeling of it all._

Feyre nodded imperceptibly and eased her grip on Ianthe’s neck. After a few seconds, Ianthe stood and turned blindly to the manor. As she walked off, I walked to Feyre and took her hand.

“My salvation.” I whispered.

 


	4. My Dearest Rhys

Shadow clung to its brethren in every corner and crevice of my vision, and I took a deep breath. This should be easy for me—I’ve had the same nightmare for Cauldron knows how long, I should be used to it.

“Feyre.” A mutter, a claim, the only word in my mind.

“Leave me, now!” I shouted, grasping for the sheets, but they aren’t there. No one was there, I was alone. I vaguely feel the faint sensation of something pulling out of me in a steady stream—my magic. I couldn’t stop anything as stream after stream of darkness trailed out of my very being. It would steal my last breath, the last fiber of my being.

Slowly, I retreated into the darkness. I watched before my eyes as Feyre’s neck snapped and I fell to my knees, pleading to any god who would listen to a heathen like me.

“Rhysand,”- Feyre was speaking, although she lay limp on the cold, marble floor. I thrashed against the darkness a bit, squeezing my hands into a fist and hitting them on the floor.

“Rhys,” Feyre repeated, and I felt blood begin to trickle down my knuckles before feeling a hard slap on the side of my face. Quickly, the darkness retreats away and is replaced by an explosion of life, of beautiful stars and sunlight. The light then faded into a face that I could recognize anywhere. Blue eyes that were contrasted with a sharp grey, golden brown hair, pointed nose…

“Feyre,” I rasped, and she placed her hand on my brow. Her skin was feverish against mine, and she leaned down to place a gentle kiss on my lips. She pulled away with a shaky breath.

“It’s okay,” she said, and I just realized that she had been straddling me. “I’m here, Rhys. I’m not with Tamlin anymore. It’s just us.” I felt a tug on the mating bond for emphasis, and I pulled back, sending everything I couldn’t vocalize through our unbreakable bond.

With each breath, I was coming closer to reality. I picked up Feyre’s arm and began to study the tattoo I had given her upon her coronation as High Lady of the Night Court, but frowned and pulled back. Her skin was pale and almost translucent, her arm too thin. Of course, I knew what staying a torturous month with Tamlin and the rest of his Spring Court cronies had done to Feyre, but I was in the least glad to see that she didn’t look half as bad as she did when I first called in our bargain.

“We really ought to get you some more tattoos, darling,” I said as she switched positions from on me to next to me.

“Oh really? I was thinking the same thing. Maybe I’d get my chest done, to match my mate.” Feyre’s voice was teasing, although a bit tired. I could practically hear the smirk in her voice, and I wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

“Seems delightful, and I’d be more than happy to be the one to do it.” The Illyrian tattoos were, in all truth, the only art form I was good at. Many males in the war camp, friend or enemy, came to me to do them. 

“Then you’ll have to head down to the Rainbow and pick up some inks, dearest Rhys.” Feyre’s voice was mocking, and I laughed at the bite before we both fell into a peaceful slumber.


End file.
